Category Archives: Short Story

Misty white clouds flowed across the hills, a rolling, silent shroud that blanketed the land. Rocky outcrops stuck up here and there, emerging from among the heather that grew thick, while tarns and small flowing waterways dotted the landscape about.

The tribe had all gathered. They were ranged about a great roaring fire that burned in the meeting commons, in the centre of the village, beneath stars at once familiar and yet at the same time strangely foreign. They were the stars that Nhaqosa had grown up with but at the same time stars that he had not seen for a great while, stars at odds with the ones that he had observed over the recent years. Whenever he glanced at them, he expected them to be different, to be the ones that he had become used to.

The interior of the base was much larger than Brian had expected, being a labyrinth of corridors and rooms far too large for the needs of just seven women. The only other movement he saw was from the odd android rattling along corridors, no two of which were alike. The interior itself was a little strange as well, and a bit off putting. The walls and ceilings and floors were slightly out of alignment so that it bent sight askew, while the doors were shaped vaguely like mushrooms, bulbous at the top but thinning below. Each door was marked by writing, a strange and disturbing script in a language unknown, and Brian was sure that he didn’t want to know it either.

The Halicarnassus tore through the upper atmosphere of the planet, a comet of blazing flame. The air brakes screamed and wailed in alarm, begging for relief, but to no avail. Ray rode them hard and the ship shook violently as a result.

The plasma shroud detonated just off ahead of the fleeing corvette Halicarnassus, erupting in a scintillating display of vividly blossoming colours set against the chill black of deep space. If not for the inherent threat it posed – and represented – Brian would have found the expanding superheated cloud an enthralling vision, a sight that lived up to the nickname bestowed upon it; the Deathblossom.

There are those that say that a man’s life is measured, heartbeat by heartbeat, from the time he is born to the time he finally expires and that there are only a finite number of heartbeats available to them. Slow the heart and you prolong the life.

Bakanon shuffled back in through the shattered door of his tavern, shaking his head, his nerves rattled and heart apounding. The interior had survived remarkably intact from the ferocious buffeting that had resulted upon the detonation of the eldritch manifestation that had plagued the Souk, yet, even so, much had still been upended and the rushes scattered all over.

The Souk outside stood empty, the patrons having sensibly fled. Bakanon, in all his time there, could not recall it having ever been so before. Stalls stood overturned, their merchandise strewn across the ground, while the smooth worn stone pavers were littered with discards hats, lost sandals, dropped cloaks and the other detritus that marked a hasty retreat.

A clatter of bowls and mugs were set down on the surface of the rough table the pair had taken seats at. Many cuts and scrapes marred the table. The pair had their swords on the table, kept close at hand. The food Bakanon served was typical of what was on offer, being comprised of coarse, dark bread, only a few days old, alongside a watery stew. It contained a mix of withered root vegetables brought out of storage, kept there for who knew how long, and a few strips of a hard, dried meat. The butcher who had sold it to Bakanon had sworn that it was beef, though he had doubts about that and had not tried it personally.